


In-between

by ormr_kin



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Origin Story, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-02 16:05:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19444864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ormr_kin/pseuds/ormr_kin
Summary: Shepard never really had a family, and had to fight tooth and nail for everything she ever had. She never felt at home... anywhere, really. That changed when she enlisted in the Alliance and was accepted into a special program.I read a friend's fic about a (slightly) alternative origin for their Shepard and i felt so inclined to do something similar. This one is pretty self-reflective, guys. And not particularly compliant with canon. Hope you enjoy!





	1. Chapter 1

If Shepard was anything, she was a good liar. A damned good storyteller, too - she hadn't become who she was for her looks. Well, it _might_ have played a part, but that didn't matter. She had grown up spinning stories that suited her best. It made her likeable, even as a duct rat, and it got her jobs. No one disliked her because she never gave them a reason to.

So when she had to pick who she was, the contrast was a little startling. 

Shepard stared down at her official Grissom Academy enlistment form, chewing on the end of her pen - why they didn't use holo-pads was beyond her - as she pored over what details they would need. 

Name. That was easy: Shepard. Though, the idea of a first _and_ last name startled her. She was just Shepard... no first or last there, just that. It had been her family name, if that even meant anything. Living on the Citadel your whole damn life didn't get you much of an education on human customs. She left the first name blank for now.

She often wondered if she had been born on Earth. Looking at the blue planet in vids, Shepard didn't feel any sort of attachment to the place. Space was her home, at least for now. Once it had been the cargo hold of an Alliance vessel, and plenty of other small places, too. Sleeping where she could fit was a common theme in where she chose to take shelter in the perpetual bustle of any space station. 

Next was age. Eighteen - at least, that's what she thought. She didn't have a birth certificate but she knew her birthday was in December. Shepard remembered the Christmas tree in the living room on her birthdays as a young child. She didn't know how old she was when she entered the foster system, but it was probably because she didn't remember- she was, apparently, only two, and had been raised with that assumption from the people who took her in after her parents died. It was hard to believe that was over fifteen years ago - not a long time, by Galactic standards. It felt like a lifetime.

Hell, it was still hard to believe her parents died at all. Both of them, to her knowledge, were high-ranking Alliance officials. Her father enlisted near the end of the First Contact War, and her mother not long after. She remembered little of her father - she supposed he was still on active duty when she was young - but had vivid memories of her mother. Her name had always eluded her but she knew it started with an _A._ She had the most beautiful smile. The day she was picked up from daycare by a stranger in Alliance fatigues would always be fresh in her mind. They never told her what happened to her parents, simply that they weren't around anymore. Some digging a few years ago told her that her father was shot dead during a supplies run by a pirate group and her mother went MIA a few days later. Shepard always wondered if she was still alive - if she was, though, it wasn't worth it for her to meet her. She'd left her behind.

Height and weight were easy, too. Already had a physical on record, even if it wasn't a human doctor. At five-six and one hundred and twenty five pounds, Shepard was slimmer than she should be with such a heavy frame, a product of years of scavenging for any food she could find coupled with the dexterity that came with learning to climb maintenance shafts and stalk silently on catwalks. She had to be strong, but unassuming, and nor was she ever really able to sit down for a decent meal.

Primary Education - that one made her heart sink. She had never been to school. At least, not real school. Yeah, she'd spent a great deal of time in the public section of the Citadel Archives, downloading as much as she could to her omni-tool, legal or no. She'd touched on human subjects but found herself straying more to alien ones the more she studied. In particular, biotics. Her power had manifested young, flares of blue issuing from her hands as young as seven, and was one of the chief reasons she left the foster system. She'd been thrown around quite a bit and developed a reputation for an attitude. When her biotic power began to appear, it was obvious she was going to be a liability. Her last caretakers, two humans who also reared several other children her age, had no experience with a child with biotics and wanted to give her off to someone else who knew better about her 'condition'- or so they called it. Said she 'scared the other children' in a report Shepard lifted from the orphanage's databanks. Now, she called it bullshit, but all Shepard knew at the time was that one day, she was sent back to the orphanage via shuttle, lying on a cold, hard bed with a thousand questions and a thousand more accusations. So, when she felt the fire start to tickle her fingers again she knew she could not stay.

A window was broken, clambered out of, alarms blaring. And so Shepard found solace in the quiet, cramped duct systems just like thousands of other children, human or otherwise. 'Duct rat' was an insult first, job title later, as she began to learn how the Citadel moved and worked. She knew all the guard rotations, how to get around without being seen. How to _not_ be seen, even in public, where children were rare. That's where the lying came in. More often than not, she had to pretend she was much older than she actually was. The hooked curve of her nose seemed to help with that assumption, as did the short crop of her hair. 

Shepard couldn't lie about not having an education, though. Fudging papers like that was a job she just didn't know who had the resources to complete. Nor did she think she had the credits to facilitate something like that either. Plus... she'd like to leave the lies behind, if at all possible. She was sick of pretending. Her eyes darted to the other empty lines of the form. Score on the biotic aptitude test? Current biotic implant? GPA? 

Her pen stilled. She thought this place was for the _other_. People who didn't have futures otherwise. Shepard thought they'd take anyone. The required lines on the form that she evidently lacked told her otherwise. She knew they'd want some things, but the form was making it seem like they wouldn't even waste their time with her.

They might take her on a special case. How was she to know, though? Shepard told herself not to get her hopes up. She doubted they'd take a nobody like herself. This had all been _pointless._ She cursed herself for even paying the courier to get her one of these stupid applications. What a waste of credits.

Shepard stood from her little corner table on the presidium, looking out over the curve of the station and seeing everything she had ever known. It made her ache. Everything she wanted to explore was out _there_ , outside of this place, and she felt like a trapped animal pacing its cage. She crumpled up the sheet in one hand, the other at her side and balled into a fist as she willed it to stop trembling. The whole of her was trembling - with anger, or sadness, or frustration, she didn't know. She just knew she hated it and she wanted _off_ of this perpetually-revolving prison.

She chucked the ball of paper over and into the water, a little grunt of self-satisfaction leaving her with the motion. Even if it was disappointing - more than disappointing, but she'd never tell herself that - it was therapeutic. The back of her throat ached with tears she willed not to come.

"What did you just throw out there?" 

The voice behind her, gruff and curt, startled her, and she turned around to see a human man of obvious Alliance origin. His fatigues were formal and most definitely spoke to him being high-ranking. The graying hair told her he was in his late forties, early fifties, maybe. Definitely saw the first contact war, maybe even firsthand. Shepard squinted her eyes at him suspiciously, and he returned the expression, almost playfully. As far as first impressions went, he was a powerful, important man who probably wanted to turn her in for some extra credits. She already didn't like him.

"What's it to you?" Her voice was clipped, forced. She didn't particularly like talking to the military types. They normally just regarded her with disgust - she was impeding them just by existing, so it seemed. Especially with the more brutal forces, constant eyes and ears were the last thing they wanted to deal with. Alliance she hadn't seen much of on the Citadel, though. Figured since they weren't a council race that they hadn't made it here yet. In fact, she'd only met one other human 'duct rat' - most of them were turian or asari. 

"Just curious, is all. You seemed rather focused." He stuck out a hand, the other crossed neatly behind his back, and Shepard wondered if he had a gun back there. Her fingers tingled. "Admiral Hackett."

Shepard paused for a moment, considered his offer. After mulling it over, she gingerly took his hand, shaking it firmly. Hackett's brows raised at her, and her unsureness as to why only made her more wary. This 'Hackett' man was well put-together. If he was hiding something she would never know it.

"Shepard," She said, clenching her jaw as she glanced back at the lake in which she'd so flippantly thrown her dreams away. "It was an application for Grissom Academy, if you're curious." Which, she knew he was. Why else would he approach her? Her voice was strained, now, almost wistful.

The Admiral gave her the smallest of smiles. "That's a fancy school. Why are you giving it up?" Shepard wasn't sure if she should tell him - after all, duct rats weren't exactly legal citizens, and he could have her kicked to a labor camp faster than she could protest. However, the man didn't seem to have it out for her, and... hey, a little advice might be nice. Especially from an 'Admiral'. It occured to Shepard that she hadn't a single clue what she would do or where she would go now - her dream had always been to apply at a school for biotics so she could improve her abilities without hurting anyone. If that was crushed, then... she had to give it a shot, as dangerous as it was.

"Well, they want me to have things like an 'education', and a 'biotic implant'..." The Admiral just raised his eyebrows at her as she used air-quotes to emphasize her points. "I don't have those things. They probably wouldn't have accepted me anyways."

"I've seen you around," He said, and Shepard worked her jaw as she stared at him, looking for a twitch of the hand, the turn of an ankle, _anything_ that would make him a threat. He was still. "Are you on your own?" 

As blatant as it was, the question threw Shepard off-guard a little, and she swallowed, unclenching her fist. It had begun to glow and she hadn't even realized. "Maybe." 

The Admiral stared at her for a moment, his eyes wandering her face as Shepard stared back with indignance. She wasn't sure if she liked where this was going, and she was already finding better footing, thinking of what direction might be the best to run off in if need be. If he had a gun behind his back...

"Why don't you enlist in the Alliance military?" 

Once again, Shepard was surprised by this strange man, even if his motives were transparent now. She just furrowed her brow and fought past the hope that glimmered in her chest. "Last I checked, they require a birth certificate." 

"I think we might be able to make an exception for such a talented biotic." That was a wild assumption. Though, his previous comment had another level of meaning, now. Not only had he seen her around, but he'd seen her antics, too. Shit. She needed to be more careful. His offer, though... it was tempting, as little as she knew about the human's branch of military force. Shepard always felt like this... in-between. Not really human, but not really anything else, either. The Admiral's expression didn't change even as she went through several states of frustration and hopefulness. If anything, she reasoned to herself, it was worth a shot. She could always walk away if need be. Not to mention she was old enough, and maybe they'd be able to give her biotics training...

Maybe she wouldn't have to hide any more.

"Well... where do I sign up?" 


	2. Chapter 2

"Arms up."

Shepard did as she was told as the omni-tool of the nurse doing her intake exam passed over her bare sides. She'd been stripped down to just her Alliance-Issued undergarments, clothes that had been foreign to her until now. She had mostly been familiar with Asari fashion, where undergarments were often built into overwear. Having them separate felt... odd. She twitched as the nurse's fingers trailed down the obvious bumps of her ribs. 

"Thinner than usual," She recorded. "Up protein intake on top of increased rations for biotic recruits." More food? That sounded damn nice. Being a biotic paid off, so it seemed. She hadn't seen any biotics coming in with her to this part of the facility, which was, apparently, on Earth, which both excited her and made her nervous. Hackett had booked them both a ship there, said he was on his way home anyways. She told him that she'd never been to Earth, and it was the first time he'd ever looked really _surprised_. 

"Never?" He'd asked. "Not even once?"

"Not that I remember. My parents were colonists on Elysium and I got taken to an orphanage on the Citadel once they were gone." She didn't know why he was so surprised. After all, she hadn't had a way off the Citadel since she arrived, without any papers or documentation to speak of. She had taken up residence on docked ships, but she always got the hell out of dodge before they left - after all, she had no idea where they were going, or where she might end up.

Hackett didn't ask about her parents, and she was glad for it. She wasn't inclined to talk about them, as little as she remembered, and nor did she need some legacy following her. Shepard was keen on carving her own path in the Alliance, even if it meant cutting all ties with her past.

Save for the name, maybe. She liked that.

Earth was something else too, she had realized. Shepard had never been somewhere so _green_. Not even the Presidium had such scenery. Supposedly, they were on a base in South America, a part of the planet thick with jungle. She had seen a bird on her way in... she didn't know animals could be those colors. 

"Ma'am, are you aware that you don't have a biotic implant?" The nurse's voice shook Shepard out of her thoughts and she jerked a little, tilting her head as she pressed her fingers to the back of her neck. The touch made shivers run up her spine.  
  
"I don't know what that is, but I'm pretty sure I'm fine without it." The nurse just blanched at her, eyes wide, and Shepard was slightly amused at her expression. The nurse checked her omni-tool - when was _she_ going to get one of those - and sighed as she pored over her file again.

"...Right. You're Hackett's 'special case'." The emphasis on those last two words made Shepard grit her teeth. She wasn't some _anomaly_. In fact, before here, she'd just been scum on the flawless reputation of the Citadel. Being 'special' was an odd feeling, and she wasn't sure if she much liked it. When you grew up in a place where your existence was illegal, being the center of attention was the last thing you wanted. "Shepard, right? Grew up an orphan on the Citadel?" She clucked her tongue as she read further, shaking her head. "Poor girl. Well, we'll get an implant in you and then get you into a group for basic. First, I'm going to need some verification of information, though."

 _Poor girl?_ Was this a pity party now? She wasn't here to get consolation for her garbage heap of a childhood. She was here to learn how to _kick ass_. "What do you need?"

"Date of birth?"

"Dunno."

"You... _don't know_." 

"Nope." She popped the 'p' as she rocked back and forth on her bare feet, raising both her eyebrows at the nurse as she typed on her omni-tool.

"Well... I need _something_. Have a guess?"

"December sometime."

"How about I make it Christmas Eve?"

Shepard mulled it over. It would mean she would be able to take leave for her birthday and the holiday at the same time. It might be a good chance to maximize her field time. After a moment, she nodded. "Sure, that works."

"So, your last name is Shepard. What's your first name?"

"Don't have one."

The nurse sighed with what was surely exasperation, and Shepard smirked inwardly - she was giving the nurse a hard time, she was sure. At least, maybe, she'd remember her. "Feel inclined to give yourself one?"

Now _that_ was a question for the ages. Kids on the citadel sometimes called her 'Artemis', especially the younger ones. As far as she knew, it was the name for the ancient Greek goddess of the hunt. She liked it, but she wasn't too inclined to name herself something from Earth's culture. She'd never been there, and it was better that the children didn't know her real name and try to find her.

Her heart panged as she remembered the friends she'd left behind. She left what little belongings she had in their typical meeting spot over Chora's Den. Left a note that said she was leaving and she was sorry. The turian girl, and the asari - they'd be fine, they could fend for themselves, but the human children... they'd manage, she was sure. Maybe once she was on leave, she'd go back and find them, buy them a nice meal and maybe a place to sleep for the night. God knows they probably needed it. Shepard had realized that the recruits here took so many things for granted... running water, a warm place to sleep, clean clothes... she had none of those things until a few days ago. She swore to herself she'd never forget how cruel life can be.

Shepard remembered a drell she met on the Citadel once - younger, asked her to help him track a target he was to assassinate. He was skilled, she remembered, moving even more silently than she and always seemed to be a step ahead of her. When the job was done, he'd bought her dinner at what was maybe the nicest restaurant she'd ever eaten at and he had told her that her shocks of red-orange hair reminded him of 'the storms of Venus'. At the time, she hadn't had a clue what Venus even was, but after some research, she'd grown to like the comparison to the hothouse. She never crossed paths with the drell again, but she thought it was an appropriate sentimentality. She hoped he was doing alright, wherever he was. The food he'd treated her to was the best meal she'd had in years. Strange, how such a small gesture left such a big impact on her. 

"Venus," She said, trying the name out on her tongue. She liked it. V for short, maybe. "Venus Shepard."

"I like it," The nurse said, and Shepard didn't _need_ her approval but the rush of pride told her otherwise. Getting validated was a strange feeling. "Alright, Venus Shepard. Step into the next room and we'll get you your implant."

\---

The surgery for the implant went well, even if Shepard wasn't too keen on getting put under for them to shove technology under her skin. They told her the implant helped control and meter biotic power, both to conserve it and prevent it from frying your eyeballs out of your head. She remembered the migraines she got as a young child when she overtaxed herself and understood almost immediately why the implants existed. Though, when the blue flared into her hands now, it felt much more like she was being restrained than being upgraded. A necessary sacrifice, she reasoned, even if she had never managed to blow out her eyeballs without one. 

Venus excelled in basic training. Her already-athletic background was only encouraged by the tough obstacle courses and nonstop exercise. A great deal of recruits dropped even after the first week, and she caught a hell of a lot of them puking up their breakfast after the long run they did in the mornings. She might have been tired, but this was the most direction she'd ever gotten and the constant activity was making her finally feel like she had a purpose. Not to mention life was so _different_ here. Three meals a day, her own bed, her own bag of meager belongings. Nothing from the Citadel, not that she really had anything there she wanted to bring. The new, clean clothes felt nice against her skin. Soft. She'd been given a simple omni-tool, too, and was exposed to the wonders of the extranet for the first time. It was _amazing_ how much information one could find about all sorts of things. 

Out of curiosity, she began reading Alliance-penned documents on alien races as she lay in her bunk one night. 'Turians are a bipedal species native to Palaven, a planet with a weak magnetic field that allows a large amount of radiation through. Turians have adapted to this environment by evolving thick, natural plating that protects their skin from gamma waves and similar forms of radiation. Though physically inclined to be predators, the harsh environment of Palaven has lead them to become a very loyalty-oriented, militaristic race. Enlistment is mandatory at the age of fifteen.' 

Shepard was surprised - as far as she knew, they'd gotten it right, but the information was disappointingly vague. What about their mannerisms? Their expressions? Did the Alliance really not know how to greet one properly, how to tell how they were feeling? She scoffed. No wonder humans and turians rarely got along. Growing up on the Citadel, she'd been good friends with many turians. Mostly C-Sec officers, as they seemed gravitated to the position if only by their nature. Most of them were quite nice, once you got to know them, and would shoot you a few credits or buy you a meal if you brought them information relevant to their business. She remembered, again, one of the people she left behind. Phira was her name, she was fairly sure - but the younger children called her 'Athena'. The human children, especially, seemed to enjoy the Greek names, and they were as good of a cover as any. She was about her age, if not just a touch younger. Shepard wondered if she was alright - though she didn't know much about her, they got along quite well, shared food and warmth when they needed to. 

The document on Asari was a little more fleshed-out: 'Asari were the first race to discover the Citadel, and by far the most advanced race in the Galaxy. They are an agendered race, who can reproduce with both other Asari and other aliens of any sex due to their means of reproduction not involving sexual organs at all. Asari resemble humans the most out of any galactic species, and are almost always a shade of blue...' The article kept going on, but Shepard was quickly bored of it. The author continued calling them 'ethereal' and 'beautiful', which... maybe they were objectively, but most of the Asari she had come across were _assholes_. Particularly the older ones, unused to humans on the Citadel and most definitely not familiar with the younger ones. She had had a friend who was an Asari, but she was a lot different from most of the adults. Even as a child, she was incredibly skilled with biotics and had taught Shepard much of what she knew prior to enlisting. She cared for the children most of the time - they called her 'Hestia', and Shepard wasn't even sure if she knew her real name. They didn't need names to protect each other. 

There were documents about Salarians, too, and some of the less prevalent races like batarians, volus, eclor, and quarians. Quarians had always interested her, with the intricate, expensive-looking enviro-suits. She didn't know much, but knew any of the ones on the Citadel were often trapped there and wary of most other races. She'd shared meals with a few.

Feeling satisfied with her research and rather put-off at the lack of information on alien species that the Alliance had gathered, she closed her omni-tool and went to bed. 

She tried to make friends as time went on, but to little success. One of the biggest differences between her and her peers seemed to be her choice in food. The mess had a large amount of Earth food, but Shepard found a lot of it to be distasteful. She tended to pick off of the meager offerings from the 'galactic' part of the line, even if it was mostly Asari food.

"Why are you eating _that?_ " One recruit asked her as she settled down at the end of a table. She had been picking at her 'prellia', a sort of Asari salad peppered with fruit native to Thessia. She looked up at the recruit and shrugged. 

"Tastes good. I kind of wished they had some graxen, though." The turian snack-food had been a staple of her diet growing up, mainly because it was really cheap and almost everyone sold it. The recruit gave her a funny look, leaning over the table. 

"You eat _turian_ food? How?" 

"Uh... by putting it in my mouth?"

"I thought turian food was toxic for humans!" Shepard blinked - she knew they had different DNA, but she'd eaten dextro food ever since she started living on her own. It was easier to come by than a lot of other dishes, especially their military rations - 'dextro paste' it was called. It didn't taste _great,_ but food was food. 

"Not to me, I guess. I've eaten it for years."

"Weird," He said, shaking his head. "You're something else. See you around... I guess."

Shepard figured that was the interaction that drove a rift between her and the other recruits. She was whispered about, pointed at, anywhere she was around a large amount of her peers. It wasn't odd to be singled out, but she sure was _lonely_. She realized she got along much better with aliens at this point. They were a little more receptive to her being 'different', if one could call it that.

It wasn't like she was going out of her way to be weird. It was just who she was, how she'd been raised. Despite the opportunities the Alliance had given her, she sorely missed her friends on the Citadel.

When the time for biotics training came around, Shepard made her way to the designated courtyard on base and found herself to be early. The small field, sheltered by buildings on all four sides, was empty save for some crates, and she perched atop one, waiting for recruits to arrive. Only one seemed to make it on time, a pale, sickly-looking boy who she'd seen losing a meal more than a few times. The look he gave her was almost... _fearful._ She never thought of herself as a threat to other students but the rumors spreading about her might have done it. She'd intercepted a few messages between recruits and was amused to find that they were discussing whether or not she might be some sort of human-alien hybrid. Shepard supposed she kind of was. Regardless, she smiled back warmly at him, which made him flinch like a turtle trying to retreat back into its shell.

"Wanna sit?" She patted the space next to her.

The boy didn't respond, just stood with his hands behind his back. "Guess not," She muttered under her breath.

When he jumped to attention, so did Shepard - their instructor had arrived. He seemed to be in his mid-twenties, a shock of blonde hair and the light armor that signified that he was most likely a biotic specialist. He looked like he'd seen a good few years of service already, but she'd never seen him on base before. Was he new? "Alright. Shepard? Johnson? Seems like you're our only two biotics in this group. I'm Lieutenant Warren and I'm here to assess your skill and then we'll see about placing you. Line up!"

The tests were of little trouble to Venus - just simple, menial tasks like lifting crates and creating warp fields and barriers - but Johnson, as she'd learned, seemed to be struggling with the tasks. The entire exercise was one giant stress test, to see how much power they could use without burning themselves out too quickly, how much control they had over their fields and barriers. She had to admit that she had the upper hand - much of her childhood she'd used Lifts to get debris out of ducts and barriers to keep herself protected when on dangerous outings. The Johnson kid might have never used his biotics for more than levitating pencils in his bunk. 

The endeavor was over after thirty minutes, and the other recruit looked rather worn out, panting and gasping for air. He looked even more pale, if that was even possible. Shepard was maybe a little hungry, a little damp with sweat. Was she really _that_ advanced? They both turned to leave, but Warren gripped Shepard by the shoulder on her way out. She froze, wondering if she might be in trouble, and as soon as Johnson was out the door he turned her around. "You did exceptionally well. Where are you from?"

A little flattered, Shepard just laughed sheepishly, fingering the bump of the implant at the base of her neck. "Ah, I was born on Elysium, but I grew up on the Citadel. My parents died when I was young. I was a duct rat before I came here."

"Really? That's interesting," His voice betrayed curiosity, but he didn't elaborate on why her circumstances were so unique. Shepard didn't think he needed to. Most of the kids here were Earthborn or from Eden Prime. Spacer kids were uncommon, parentless ones almost unheard of. Most of the time, they ended up lost in the system. Or the ducts. "I have a proposition for you."

"Listening," Shepard responded, jumping to attention as Warren stepped back, arms crossed behind him. 

"You are a very talented biotic, Shepard - and don't let that get to your head - and we have a program we're trying to spearhead that I would really like you on board with, if your skills prove to be useful."

"But I'm just a recruit. I'm only an E-1, and just barely," She reasoned, her tone a little incredulous. "I only finished my official training a few days ago."

"I'd want to wait until you're at least an Ensign, but that won't take long," Warren scoffed, as if her quick advancement was a no-brainer. "They'll probably have you do a few supply runs and some basic weapons training and have you ready for duty. But," He leaned closer, his tone a little quieter. "I need to make sure you're up for the program."

"What is it?"

"It's a program for biotics of different races," He said. "Think of it like an exchange program. The Asari military wants to research biotic ability in other species and has invited the turian and human militias to offer forward candidates for the project." 

"So they'll be studying me."

"Yes and no," He said. "The end goal will be to create better implants for species that aren't natural biotics, and biotic enhancements for Asari, but it will also give you a chance to prove your skill and maybe work on a specialist squad. Think you're up for the task?"

Shepard swallowed, mulling it over, but she was fairly sure her mind was already made. She got along better with aliens than she did humans - the wariness that her bunkmates showed her was a fair testament to that. Her daily rituals - the ones that were allowed, at least - were vastly different than that of her peers, and she generally felt like she _offended_ them. Maybe it would be a chance to finally work together with people like her. People who didn't quite fit in. After a moment, she cleared her throat, her heart thumping with anticipation. "Yes. I'll do it."

"Great. I'll put your name down and see you here again next week for another round of training." Something was odd about his tone, and Shepard realized that he might have only been here for her - the guy she'd come in with couldn't hold a candle to her abilities, even if she was being humble about it. She was sure her skill had been noted when she came in, especially since she was only fitted with an implant once she arrived here.

"Understood."

The lunch bell rang on her way back inside, and Shepard had a pep in her step as she made her way to the mess, finally feeling like she had a goal in mind. She'd become the best damn soldier the Alliance had ever seen, if she had her way. She had come her to survive, but now she wanted to excel. The thought excited her. Now, just how quick could she become an Ensign...


	3. Chapter 3

As hard as Shepard worked to gain rank, her promotion to Ensign took much longer than she'd originally planned it to. Though she was proficient in both her physical and biotic training, the academic portion of her evaluations always seemed to fall short and she missed marks on several proficiency tests because of it. This was no surprise - with no formal education to speak of, she was leagues behind other recruits that had extensive schooling in a variety of different studies. She was interested in history and culture, especially since she lacked a personal perspective on Earth's, but subjects like math and science continued to elude her understanding. It frustrated her more than she wanted it to. All her life, she'd excelled even with the meager tools she'd been given. She knew the exact spot on a turian's back that could be hit to immobilize them, knew exactly what buttons to press on security panels to get a guard out of a room. Staring at math problems and science dissertations only made her head spin. It wasn't that the subjects were _boring-_ the problem was that there seemed to be an insurmountable mass of information she just didn't know. She'd learned the basics of math, but she was wholly unprepared for subjects like calculus or physics. There was no foundation beneath those subjects for her, and it put her at a significant disadvantage.

She'd made it up to E-9 without much trouble, but she knew she would have to buckle down and learn basic concepts before another promotion came her way. With little daily training to do on base without a post, Venus spent hours holed up in her bunk, poring over her omni-tool as she tried to learn the thousands of academic subjects she lacked information or knowledge on. Things began to reveal themselves to her, and even as she went days without proper rest, Shepard began to see herself improve on the Alliance-issued practice tests. Higher-ranking officers praised her for her determination, but she didn't see it that way. This was survival. As soon as she was promoted, she could get off this rock and back among the stars.

From the very beginning, Venus knew she wasn't going to stay on Earth. The lush jungles and high mountaintops were gorgeous, but the vast, empty void of space called to her in a way the dirt did not. The biotic initiative - which Warren told her was tentatively named 'Triptych Academy' - was her way out. Sure, if she stayed with the Alliance she would eventually be put on a ship somewhere, but Earth would still be home, and she just couldn't bring herself to call it that. It was as alien to her as any other planet in the galaxy.

Warren had proved to be a very good teacher. The other biotic disappeared after their first meeting, and though Shepard had still seen him while roaming the base, he didn't seem to be entertaining any more biotic training. When she asked, the Lieutenant told her that he had been moved to other sectors for further advancement - his biotic ability simply wasn't enough to facilitate warfare, not to mention he was equipped with an L-2 implant that had severely impaired his abilities. Regardless, Shepard continued on alone - and when alone, was happy. None of the other recruits ever seemed to want to talk to her, and she felt the same way. The key problem was that they were _human_ , primarily Earthborn. Very little common ground was shared, so she had meager pickings when it came to conversation fodder. Shepard was surrounded by aliens, even if they shared the same ancestors. The Alliance noticed this, too, even without her bringing anything up with the officers. The whispers were obvious and followed her wherever she went. Venus knew it should _hurt,_ and the counseling they tried to enroll her in made it obvious the Alliance thought it might damage her pysche. If she was honest, though, she didn't much care. Being gossiped about only meant that people knew her name, and it wasn't like she was particularly _social_. She liked talking to people if they had something to talk about. All the conversations about 'home' between other recruits just made her miss her friends even more, and talking about the Citadel only met her with blank stares and odd looks. 

When the time for ability testing came around, Shepard passed with flying colors. The physical part of the test posed no problem to her - she could easily handle even the heaviest of weapons and the longer, larger ones didn't pose much of a problem, either. Considering she had at least a few inches on all of the other women and even some of the men, she was denoted in the report as 'incredibly intimidating in a combat setting'. She scoffed at that - she might be tall, and fairly _large_ by human standards, but they weren't going to be fighting humans. She still wouldn't pose much of a physical threat to a turian or a krogan. 

Her biotics, too, were more powerful than most of the test administrators had expected. Though she was still incapable of creating more complex biotic fields without seriously overexerting herself, the sheer power behind her throw was a testament to many years of using them as a means for survival. Shepard would hesitate to call herself proud, but she wasn't humble about her abilities. She knew she was dangerous, and the looks of the other recruits as they watched the only biotic in their sector lift two hundred-pound crates without a sweat invigorated her. On the report, she scored well out of baseline human ability, and was commented on scoring on mid-tier asari charts. 'Extremely powerful, but needs to work on refined skill,' the administrator had wrote. He was right, but Shepard knew she'd get that and more at this academy she was set to ship off to. 

The academic test was enough to make her sweat, maybe even more than the physical exertion had. Many of the subjects were still very fresh in her mind, even if she now had a fundamental understanding of the topics the Alliance tested on. The essay portion had her write a detailed scenario about first-contact protocol, and when Shepard got her report back, it seemed that it might have been her saving grace. 'Mid-level proficiency on STEM subjects. Could use improvement. However, harbors an extensive knowledge on alien communications and seems to be very level-headed.' 

The assignment portion of the first sheet was blank, which she expected. Her enlistment in the biotic program had been made official a few weeks ago as the project went public. Hence, there was no post to assign her on Earth or in the Alliance fleets. 

The second page of the report detailed her numbered scores on all sections. Highest in biotics, with physical training right behind it, as she expected. Her academics weren't the best, not even close, but she'd passed the baseline by a margin that wounded her ego only slightly. 'Recommended training course: Vanguard'. She liked the sound of it - a biotic warrior that got up close and personal with enemies. She might be a _little_ more crafty than that, but it wasn't like she was going to follow through with an Alliance training course.

The very bottom of the report, printed in small, neat letters, detailed her rank promotion. Her heart had jumped in her throat as she read, hoping that her proficiency was enough to constitute a promotion. Instead of Ensign, though, 'Jr. Lieutenant' was scrawled in messy handwriting over the form. She recognized the signature of the Admiral below, which made her chuckle a little. Hopefully he really though she deserved the position.

In the coming days, her destination was determined to be Thessia. The idea of going to the asari homeworld made Shepard nervous, despite her eagerness. Would she feel even more alien on an entirely new planet? In her free time between ceremonies, she did as much research as she could on the eezo-rich planet in hopes that knowledge of their culture might do her good once she arrived. Regardless, her ship date loomed closer and closer, and the vast unknown that stretched above the base taunted her with its enormity, leaving her to lay awake at night, wondering just what lay ahead for her.

\---

"A little hiccup in plans," The captain of the small travel-ship said as she approached him in the cockpit. Shepard hadn't learned his name yet, even though she'd been onboard for several hours now. He just seemed to absorbed in his work to really speak to anyone at length. Now, though, he seemed to have heard her coming - she'd been awoken by an incessant beeping indicating that they were assuming docking protocol. "The last fuel station was awaiting restock, so we had to skip it. So we're going to dock at the Citadel instead."

Venus' eyes widened. Maybe the universe was kinder than she thought, and she could see her friends again. The longer she'd been in training, the more she thought about how abruptly she had left. Shepard was sure that they wondered where she'd gone - if anything, they were probably glad that she'd found a purpose beyond trying to struggle through day-to-day life. "The Citadel? For how long?"

"We'll refuel, but we're also scheduled to make repairs, so we'll probably be in drydock for at least a few days. At least we have something to do instead of just sit around." He muttered that last part, his tone slightly bitter, which made Shepard wonder just how long he'd been aboard this ship without rest. The captain was shuttling her and a few other soldiers to the Athena nebula. She'd learned through overhearing her fellow passengers' conversations that they were set to become part of the crew of a frigate that was doing mining operations on asteroids in the area. They didn't seem particularly excited about it, either - it was a far cry from the heroic military life they'd expected.

Venus, on the other hand, was a ball of nervous energy. The anticipation of seeing where she'd spend the next few years of her life terrified her - at least she had _known_ things about Earth before docking there. Her knowledge about Thessia only went as far as what the Alliance provided in their database, which was frustratingly little. Not to mention everything about Triptych Academy was strictly under wraps until she was on the premises. 

The idea of some shore leave strengthened her resolve a little, though. Maybe she could peruse the archives and dig up some more information about the planet. Hell, maybe she could just ask an asari, if she found one nice enough to chat with her for a while. It had never occurred to her to ask Hestia, her asari friend, about her home, either. Shepard had assumed that she hadn't been born there, considering her attitude towards others of her kind. It was at least worth asking her, if she could find her - the duct rats would elude anyone they didn't want to be noticed by, but she knew all of their hidey-holes. She hoped she could track them down, if only for some closure. 

\---

"Name?"

"Venus Shepard."

The customs officer tapped quickly at her terminal, nodding. "Ah, here we go. Shepard, Junior Lieutenant. This your first time?"

Shepard laughed lightly, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. "Uh... officially, yeah."

The woman just gave her an odd look, shrugging as she granted her access with another burst of typing. "Welcome to the Citadel. You're currently on the Presidium, and there are rapid transit stations that will take you to anywhere you need to go. If you have any other questions, please ask Avina, the station VI. Enjoy your visit." Her voice was almost robotic. Shepard had heard the same line a thousand times at the port - same greeting for everyone, down to the intonation. Everything was designed to be so... non-offensive. She found it unnerving.

Shaking off the feeling of actually being _welcomed_ , she continued into the commons with the intention of searching the first hiding spot her friends would stake out in while looking for food or supplies. _Just a few steps down the ledge here, and... aha!_ There was the loose panel she'd crawled out of more times than she could count. Before she had left, she was already beginning to have trouble fitting. Now, with a decent diet and military training, she didn't think she could get in there if she tried. Instead, she just pried it open, peering inside to find... nothing. Empty. Shepard thought she might be wrong about the place, but she saw the scrawl on the adjacent panel, an asari symbol indicating sanctuary for any orphans or refugees. This was definitely it, but... no one was here. What happened? 

She looked up to see a few aliens staring at her from across the railing she'd slipped past to get to the panel, and promptly realized she looked like an idiot just standing there. Smiling sheepishly, she stepped back over the railing and continued on her way.

"...Humans," One of them scoffed as she passed. 

The next spot was empty, too, only a few crumpled blankets left behind to signify that this may have been a sleeping place, once. No traces beyond that, no writing, nothing. The same went for the next spot, and the next... no sign of anyone currently living in any of the places she remembered. 

The final one she decided to check before giving up and changing tact was near the embassies. Despite the lurking presence of C-Sec, the ducts here were where the kids spent most of their time. It was cleaner, the ducts were larger and more comfortable, and the passages here were made out of carbon-fiber instead of sheet metal, which caused less noise as they shuffled about. Shepard held her breath as she opened it, squinting through the darkness... 

Still nothing. No people, anyways. There was a smattering of objects littered about the wider area of the duct - clothes, boxes, garbage... her breath hitched as she spied something shiny peeking out from underneath an old sock.   
  
Pulling away to ensure no one was watching her, tucked away in a little maintenance passage behind a storefront, she found herself to be alone. Alone enough, anyways, even as people bustled just a few meters away from her. Leaning her entire torso into the duct, she reached to grab it, the familiar shape causing a surge of memories. Even in the dark, she knew what it was - a badge for the Hierarchy. It had belonged to Phira, the turian girl she'd met not long after she escaped the orphanage. They'd been brought to an empty apartment in the wards by Hestia. Shepard was only seven or eight at the time, but she knew right away that both of the aliens had been through similar tribulations as she. Her and Phira - or Athena, as she was often called - were fast friends, both having a knack for gathering intel about the whereabouts of things like food and supplies on the station. She had told her that the badge had belonged to her mother, who had given her life protecting a turian colony. Phira was only a few years old at the time. Shepard had never inquired about her past beyond that - none of the kids were really _ready_ to face that part of their lives yet. They were so young, and a lot of it was so _fresh..._ It was easier not to talk about it.

Why it had been left her was beyond her. They must have left in a hurry, with the way items were strewn about. Hestia had always made a point of keeping everything neat and orderly to prevent them from losing supplies, and this just... wasn't like either of them. She knew one thing, though - they wouldn't go anywhere without each other, attached at the hip as they were. Shepard was, too, until she decided she wanted off the station. It felt like a rock settled in her gut when she realized she'd distanced herself from them as she searched for opportunities beyond the Citadel. Did they think that she hated them? She hoped not. 

"Excuse me, ma'am? What are you doing?"

Shepard jumped at the voice, head banging on the top of the duct with a loud _thunk._ Muscles tensed, she extricated herself from behind the panel, rubbing the sore part of her skull as she did so. The voice belonged to a turian, which was apparent as soon as he'd started speaking. The flange in his voice gave it away. The blue-and-silver armor, along with the gold insignia on his chest, told her he was a C-Sec officer. Back when she lived here, getting spotted by one was like a code-red, and her heart instinctively quickened as she stood to her full height to face him. Hmm. Turians seemed a little _smaller_ than they used to be, but he still had at least a few inches on her. Maybe she could sidestep him...

Not an option. She wasn't going to get caught running from an officer on her first day of shore leave. Shepard tucked her arms behind her back to conceal her prize and smiled sheepishly at the man, nudging the panel closed with her hip. "Um, nothing, officer! Just..."

The turian raised his brow plates, and she found herself intrigued - she'd forgotten how much those could move. This turian, in particular, seemed rather expressive. Maybe he was new. That was probably to her advantage - she could distract him somehow and slip back into the crowd. His ice-blue eyes narrowed at her, mandibles flaring with what Shepard had learned was curiosity as he took a step towards her. Her legs tensed. She wanted nothing more than to run away right now. "Let me see your hands."

After a moment of thought, she presented him with the insignia. A noise of protest escaped her as he lifted it from her hands, which she chastised herself for - _What did you think he was going to do, dumbass?_ \- and the officer inspected it with curiosity, tilting his head. The faintest of chirps escaped him as he read the lettering, and Shepard relaxed a little - he would be a hell of a lot more careful if he was about to arrest her for tampering with Citadel technology. She needed to be more careful, that was for sure, but... 

"You found this in here?" He asked, and Shepard nodded quickly, not sure if it was worth explaining why she was rooting around in the ducts. On one hand, they looked long-deserted, but on the other... what if her friends were still hiding somewhere? Maybe they abandoned the Presidium completely to avoid detection?

"I- uh-"

"I'm not going to arrest you. Mostly, I'm just curious as to how you knew that a turian medal of honor was in there." 

"I-I didn't! It was -" She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Not here to arrest her. Just curious. She had no way of knowing if he was telling the truth, but the flutter of his mandibles reminded her of the looks Phira gave her when she talked about things she learned reading the Archives. Biting her lip, she turned her gaze down to the medal again, sighing in resignation. "It was a friend's. From a long time ago. I didn't think I'd find it here, she always kept it with her."

"Why were your friends rooting around in the ducts?" His tone was a little incredulous, but after a moment the plates on his face seemed to relax, his mandibles drooping. "Ah. I see. Did you..." He nodded at the now-sealed panel, eyes still piercing her. 

"I... used to live here. I mean, not just _on_ the Citadel, the ducts. I grew up here."

The C-Sec officer just _stared_ at her another moment, and she looked away, panic bubbling in her chest again. She told herself she'd never tell anyone this, beyond the other kids. This officer could ruin their lives if he caught them. Then, he just nodded slowly. "I think I understand," He said, extending his hand to hand her back the medal. She almost flinched away at the movement, but stopped herself at the last second, snatching it from his hands and stowing it away in her breast pocket. "Was your friend a turian? Did she tell you where this came from?"

"Yes. And... she said she got it from her mother. I don't know why she left it behind, it was really important to her..."

"Sounds about right." The officer didn't elaborate, instead turning to look behind him as if he, too, were afraid of intruders. His arm extended again after a moment, the three fingers relaxed. When his palm pressed against her shoulder, she gripped at his forearm with both hands, breath hitching. Shepard's hostility seemed to make him deflate a little, and he pulled away, bringing the same hand to his mouth as he cleared his throat. "Ahem. Sorry. I was trying to greet you. I guess it would make sense that you're scared of cops." He laughed a little, and Shepard mentally kicked herself. The gesture was an _incredibly_ common turian greeting, and she'd taken it as a threat. He didn't seem too bothered, if only a little awkward. She found him a little more... personable, than most turians she'd met in C-Sec. Most of them would go out of their way to arrest humans. Either turians suddenly enjoyed their company, or she'd gotten extremely lucky. 

She extended her own arm this time, hand resting on his pauldron, feeling a modicum safer knowing the man was trying to make nice. "Junior Lieutenant Shepard, Alliance military." Her expression was hard, still, but the hint of a smirk drug on her lips - maybe she could use him to get some information on the whereabouts of her friends. He didn't seem nearly as disgusted with the idea of duct rats compared to her past experiences. 

His movement was tentative this time - _with good reason_ , she thought - and his hand came to rest on the muscular curve of her shoulder. He looked at her for another moment before his mandibles twitched, a little huff of air suggesting he was amused. "Garrus Vakarian, C-Sec. Nice to meet you."

"You new here, Garrus Vakarian? Most of my encounters with cops have been a little more tense." Shepard found herself really smiling, now, as she pulled away from the turian's equivalent of a handshake, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Maybe a little. You also don't really look the criminal type. No offense," He added, dipping his head a little. Venus was still inspecting him, trying to gauge what his movements meant and how she should be interpreting his niceness. "... Do you know what the writing means?"

Shepard blinked, confused. "Writing on what?"

"Your friend's medal."

"...No, I don't."

"Well..." He lifted his arm to activate his omni-tool, eyes cast down to inspect its display. "...My shift is just about done, and I could use some lunch. You're trying to find you friend, right?"

Turns out he was doing the same thing - she was sure her expression when he'd taken the medal from her had given away her motives. He didn't seem hostile, though... maybe he had his own motives, too. Beyond his job, maybe. The way he'd looked at the medal, it was like he was surprised about seeing it. "...Maybe. What's it to you?"

Garrus lifted his hands up in a gesture of innocence. "Hey, I'm off the clock now. And even when I _am_ working, kids hiding in the ducts are the least of my worries." He snorted, looking back at the main walkway again. "I know some officers take it more seriously, but they don't have anywhere to go. The new chief usually turns a blind eye to it, anyways. They're a good source of intel." This was a new development. They were providing information to C-Sec directly now? They'd done so through couriers and information brokers before, but never on a face-to-face basis. Maybe lunch _did_ sound nice.

"...Okay. You pick a place, though. I don't know shit about anything here except the waste receptacles."

The turian chuckled at that, a sound that made a shiver run up her spine - she'd never really gotten over the way the flange made turian voices sound. It was like he was laughing in stereo. "If I choose a place to eat, you'll be puking your guts up."

"Doubt it. I grew up here, remember? Food's food. I'll be fine."

Garrus gave her a funny look at that - the food disparity was something she'd never understood. All of the kids she lived with ate whatever they could get their hands on with little issue, but articles from the Alliance had warned her against eating dextro food because it would cause allergic reactions and stomach upset. Maybe she could get more information in the Archives when she went to do her research on Thessia. "You sure are a weird human."

" _You're_ weird," Shepard retorted, tilting her chin up a little in indignance.

Garrus just laughed again, motioning for her to follow him into the crowd. "I know just the place, then."

**Author's Note:**

> hoo boy. i didn't expect myself to latch onto this as much as i have. expect more of miss shepard-to-be-named!


End file.
